The Free Agent
by Boudicca's Revolt
Summary: Charlie gets a surprise from his long-time girlfriend Maureen. This surprise will change his life forever. I subscribe to the SU. R&R! 9th and final chapter now up-Mirela's wedding.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; I own only the plot and Maureen. The rest belong to JK Rowling. The song at the beginning (Give Me the Simple Life) belongs to Julie London. It's the song I always think of when I imagine Arthur Weasley. Enjoy!

"_I don't believe in frettin' and grievin';_

_Why mess around with strife?_

_I never was cut out to step and strut out._

_Give me the simple life."_

The band's music wafted through the tent as couples in brightly colored dress robes swung around the dance floor. It was the biggest party the Burrow had seen since Ron and Hermione's wedding over twenty years before. Of course, they had had Christmases and the annual family get-togethers but nothing this special. It was a veritable who's who in wizarding England. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, was chatting with Ginny by the punch bowl. Famed potion master Arsenius Jigger was flipping through a manuscript Albus had brought him. Only a very special occasion could have warranted the turn out and the expense. Arthur's 80th Birthday along with his and Molly's 60th Anniversary was one such occasion.

Despite the general air of festivity however, Charlie Weasley was not happy. His girlfriend refused to tell him what was wrong and if there was anything he hated, it was worrying. He looked up from his champagne, scanning the tent for Maureen. She emerged from the house, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked pale and drawn as she had for the past couple of week. As she approached, he rose to his feet. "Come on Reeney, something's really wrong. Maybe we should call it a night. I'm sure Bill wouldn't mind if we stayed at Shell Cottage." Maureen shook her head, covering her mouth. 

"I don't want to ruin this for your parents Charlie. I'm _fine_." 

"No you're not! You've been sick for two weeks. Why don't you just go to the healer?" Maureen groaned. "Come on Maureen! Why won't you tell what's going on," he burst out, gaining some startled looks. 

"Shh!" she hissed, marching toward the house. He followed, his fists balled at his sides. She was hiding something. Bill tried to intercept him but Charlie brushed past. He found Maureen sitting on the couch in the living room, her head resting in her hands. "Just leave me alone for Merlin's sake," she muttered moodily. 

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" He looked down at his hands, trying to hide the hurt from her voice. She let out an explosive breath and ran a shaking hand through her hair. 

"Charlie, I've already been to the healer," she stated carefully, looking at him probingly. His head shot up and the color drained from his cheeks. "No, no, nothing's _wrong _with me, not in the way you're thinking anyway . . . " her voice trailed off. 

"What is it then?" he asked, relieved that she didn't have some terminal illness or something. Whatever it was, he could handle it.

"Charlie, I'm pregnant." Well, except that. What little color had returned to his cheeks quickly drained. His mouth fell open and she stared at him almost defensively. She brought a hand to her stomach and began rubbing rhythmic circles over her still toned abdomen. 

"What! I thought, we, well, you know . . . "

"Oh, how could I forget!" she hissed sarcastically. "You're right; since we used _protection _I must be wrong. We're not pregnant! Thank you for pointing that out to me because that clearly has never come to my mind," she spit back acidly. Charlie ran his hand over his face, trying to regain some feeling. He began pacing, his hands behind his back the way he always did when he was nervous. "I wasn't going to tell you," she allowed in a soft voice.

"Oh, you were just going to _hide _that from me yeah?" 

"No," she said slowly, looking him in the eye. He understood and he felt anger boil up inside of him.

"You were going to do _that_ without even _talking _to me?" he exploded, causing her to jump.

"Well it's not as if we wanted the child anyway. I just, I didn't know what to do. We discussed this. We liked the way our life had turned out and a baby is just going to complicate everything." Charlie glared at her. How could she? They had been together for twenty odd years. She was right of course that they had never planned on having kids, that the very idea of reproducing sickened both of them. A baby _was _going to complicate things but to not tell him? 

"This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"So are you going to do it then?" Charlie asked brusquely, pivoting around to look at her. She shifted uneasily on the couch.

"I couldn't go through with it. At the last minute I chickened out," she answered in a low voice. 

"Well what are you going to do since clearly I have no say in the matter?"

"I don't know what the hell we're going to do Charlie but yelling at me isn't going to help anything."

"I can't talk to you anymore," Charlie retorted, throwing up his hands in frustration. He turned and walked back toward the tent. He was still reeling from the news. A baby, he a father? He shivered. Neither of them had ever been particularly parental. Sure, he liked being cool Uncle Charlie but he got to give his nieces and nephews back at the end of a long weekend and he and Maureen could go back to doing exactly what they wanted to do. They didn't have to worry about babysitters or where they kept their knives in the kitchen. They were free agents, able to hop on a broom at a moments notice. The thing that was really bothering him though, was that feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had thought that Maureen had . . . Was it disappointment, sadness? He didn't quite know but the thought of loosing the baby now, it was, vaguely _bad _for lack of a better description.

He re-entered the tent and had to roll his eyes as Bill walked over, his hands buried in the pockets of his robes. He loved his brother immensely but the curse-breaker was too much of a busy body for his own good. "Are you okay?" Bill asked in a would-be casual voice. Charlie nodded non-committaly. "You sure? You and Maureen looked like you were going to bite each other's heads off." Charlie sighed. He could never keep anything from Bill for very long.

"Maureen is pregnant," he stated. Bill looked back in shock. "She's been sick for a couple of weeks; I should have put two and two together but I just never thought . . . Merlin's pants," he breathed heavily. 

"So, so she just told you?"

"I forced it out of her."

"Did she think you wouldn't _notice _eventually?" Bill asked. Charlie covered his face with his hand. Bill, as usual, had hit the nail on the head.

"She, she wasn't sure she was going to tell me because, well, she wasn't sure she was going to _have _it at all." Bill's face darkened.

"She was just going to get rid of the baby and not ever tell you?" he asked incredulously. Charlie nodded dumbly. Truth be told, he wasn't _that_ surprised. There was a reason the two had been dating for over twenty years and had never gotten married. He supposed he loved her but she was more of a companion than anything else and they both led very independent lives. He had not trouble imagining how she might have rationalized it in her head. It was her body and it wasn't a baby anyway, it was a stomach flu, a stomach flu that would end up costing her the last years of her independent life. "Well, is she going to?" Bill asked finally. Charlie shook his head mutely. No, this baby was going to come and they had only a few months to decide what to do. 

The party ended in the wee hours of the morning. Charlie went to find Maureen but she had gone home. He decided to spend the night at Shell Cottage, hoping to cool off before what he knew was going to be a very difficult conversation. Bill had sworn not to tell anyone but Charlie knew he only had a matter of time before Bill cracked and told Fleur and the minute she found out, the family would know within a couple of hours. He lay on the guest bed, gazing out at the ocean. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he couldn't give the baby up, not now. He had always been more family oriented than Maureen, which, honestly wasn't saying much. She had grown up with parents who were never there. 

He calculated it in his head. When the baby turned eleven, ready for his or her first day at Hogwarts, he would be in his sixties. They would think he was Grandpa. Hell, Bill's grandchildren were going to be older than his _child_. He had no idea how to raise a kid and he was too set in his ways. Would he and Maureen have to get married now? And that brought him to another problem, Maureen. Would she even agree to raise the child? What would the kid be like? What if they ended up with a kid like Percy? Underneath all of that though, was an indescribable feeling, a mixture of excitement, longing and . . . love. He fell asleep calculating the age he would be when he got his own grandchildren, what a nightmare . . . 

The next morning, he flooed back to Romania, to his and Maureen's flat. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her hair mussed and dark circles heavy under her eyes. She was nursing a large mug of coffee. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him. "Reeney, we need to talk."

A/N: I hope you liked it. I know it was a bit rough but it will get better! Please REVIEW! 

Hugs and Kisses,

Liz 


	2. Golden Slumbers

Disclaimer: I own only Mirela and Maureen. The rest belong to JK Rowling. 

_Golden slumber kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise.  
Sleep,  
pretty baby,  
Do not cry,  
And I'll sing you a lullaby._

Care you know not,  
Therefore sleep,  
While I o'er you watch do keep.  
Sleep,  
pretty darling,  
Do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby.

Charlie stood beside the grave, the wind whipping around his stocky frame, his black robes flapping violently. His ashen face was focused on the newly mounded dirt. He didn't cry; he never cried. He didn't feel anything; he didn't sense anything. He hadn't even heard the words spoken at the service. He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder but he didn't turn. Maybe if he stared at the grave long enough it would disappear. "Charlie," the voice spoke softly. "Come on Charlie. You can't stand here forever." Charlie shrugged off Bill's hand. He sunk to his knees and ran a blistered finger over the tombstone, tracing her name. _Maureen Abigail Green: Lover of Dragons, Sunsets, and Firewhisky_. He felt his chest hitch dangerously. 

"Why'd you have to leave me Reeney?" he whispered hoarsely. He brought his hand to cover his mouth, resting his forehead on the cool stone. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry he demanded internally. He felt Bill crouch down beside him, his tentative arms beginning to snake around his shoulders. "Don't," he murmured, shutting his eyes. If Bill hugged him, he would loose his composure. He had to keep his composure. Bill drew back his arms and stood. 

"Charlie, your baby needs you now," Bill murmured. Charlie clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes as tightly as he could, willing him to stay strong. He stood, running a cold and shaking hand over his face. With a last fleeting glance at Maureen's grave, he disapperated. 

The Burrow was abuzz with activity, children underfoot and parents running around after them. "Remus! Put down that wand now!" he heard Victoire bellow. She caught sight of him and sent him a sympathetic look before continuing her chase. He walked into the kitchen, at a loss for what he was supposed to do. Maureen's parents had barely stayed through the service and, while his family had liked Maureen, she hadn't really been around enough for them to get to _love _her. 

The previous seven and half months had gone by in a blur, a blur of hormones, shouting matches and slamming doors. To say that Maureen hadn't taken the pregnancy well would be the understatement of the century. It hadn't helped matters that she had had a particularly difficult time of it. She hadn't been able to keep down more than soda crackers and broth for over a month. Her feet had swollen up and her back was always aching. The last month, however, had been the final straw. She had been bedridden. Somewhere in the back of Charlie's mind though, he had thought that it would all be worth it. When they could hold their baby in their arms, everything would be all better. 

Fate is funny. It turned out that the baby Maureen had thought would ruin her life had ended it. Charlie had never been more afraid in his life than when, just four days before, Maureen had collapsed on the way back from the toilet. He had rushed her to the hospital and explained in halting Romanian what had happened. The next twenty-four hours changed his life forever. They barely got the baby out when Maureen flat-lined, all of her energy spent. He would always remember that moment, watching his partner and the love of his life take her last breath as he held his baby girl in his arms. It was as if the baton had been passed: Maureen to Mirela . . . 

His mother was in the kitchen. She had a small, pink bundle in her arms and was cooing at it lovingly. Utterly spent emotionally, Charlie leaned against the doorframe. How was he supposed to do this alone? He was too old, too stubborn, too hard, too rough. He sighed heavily, unspent tears lingering just behind his eyes, threatening to burst forth. Mrs. Weasley looked up and smiled at him sadly. 

"Look precious; it's Daddy. Daddy's here." She walked over to him and slid the bundle into Charlie's strong arms. It felt so strange, holding something so light when he was used to carrying 60 lb. bags of dragon feed. He looked down into her small, rosy face. Bill had told him that all babies look like garden gnomes when they were born and not to worry; they got much cuter later. Mirela had been cute from the beginning though, a bright tuft of copper hair on the top of her head, big eyes the color of blueberries. She had Maureen's nose, his ears, Maureen's lips . . . He felt the dam behind his eyes break and tears ran down his face, falling off of his chin. Mirela squirmed as they dropped on her face but she didn't wake. 

"That's right Rela, Daddy's here," he murmured, rocking her back and forth.

"Oh Charlie," Mrs. Weasley whispered. 

"Mum, if it's alright with you, I'm going to take Mirela back to the flat. I just, we, just need to . . . " he trailed off. Mrs. Weasley looked skeptical but nodded, seeing the determined look in her son's eye. Mirela had been staying at the Burrow since she'd come home from the hospital. Charlie had been in no fit state to take care of her. 

"I'll get her things."

"Things?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I dug through some of the old baby things and, of course, Ginny, Hermione, Audrey, they all brought their old things: a blanket, some bottles, nappies, a rattle, an old stuffed dragon you used to carry with you everywhere-"

"Puffy," Charlie cut in.

"Yes, well, we'll have to get some new things of her own soon but, well, they'll do for now." She hurried out of the room. He looked back at his daughter, love blossoming in his chest. She was perfect. He ran his finger over her cheek. His mother returned a moment later, purple bag slung over her shoulder. She tucked in a rattle and looked up at him. "Are you sure you don't want someone to go back with you?" Charlie shook his head.

"Thanks Mum but Mirela and I need some time . . . " Mrs. Weasley nodded and handed him the bag. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and planted a kiss on her youngest grandchild's forehead. 

"I've included a feeding schedule and some tips; I know you've never done this before. And if you run into any trouble, just floo. I'm sure Bill and Fleur wouldn't mind either. You take care of this little dear," she gave him a stern glance before squeezing his shoulder. "It will all turn out alright in the end; don't worry." Charlie nodded, the lump in his throat returning and he turned quickly, disapperating with a pop. 

He looked around the flat. It was clean, much cleaner than it ever had been before. His mother must have come by. He moved quickly toward the office that would double as the nursery. A small, white crib stood in the corner. He had picked out the blanket himself the month before. It was covered in dragons, all of his favorite species. It had taken him three weeks to find one that wasn't cutesy and inaccurate. 

Tenderly, he lay her down in the crib, planting a gentle kiss on her tiny fingers. She looked so peaceful, a gentle flush in her chubby cheeks. She stirred and made a satisfied little coo. He pulled the desk chair up beside her and sat down, propping his legs up and pulling a blanket around him. He didn't want to be alone tonight.

_Two Months Later_

Charlie stood in the doorway, looking at his flat for the last time. Mirela was in the sling around his shoulders and he had a sleep-away bag in his hand. Of course, he could have disapperated from the living room but he needed the closure. His heart clenched painfully on the sight of the empty walls. He had spent twenty years of his life in this flat. He had loved Maureen here. He had grown to love his daughter here. He had become a man here, growing up in the truest sense. He sighed heavily and closed the door for the last time. This was good, this was healthy but it still felt like shit. 

He had requested a transfer to a dragon reservation in Wales to be closer to his family. His mother took care of Mirela while was working and he wanted his daughter to grow up with family around her. Isolation was fine for a bachelor but not a baby. They had just finalized everything the week before, putting a sizable down payment on a small cottage in the countryside. They could have a dog, and he was only a stone's throw from the reservation. 

He arrived in the small, scrubbed cottage a moment later. It was everything he liked in a house, simple, rustic and surrounded by nature. It had three bedrooms: one for him, one for Mirela, and a small office. His modest collection of furniture looked much more comfortable in the cottage than it ever had in the achingly modern flat. His mother walked out of the nursery, a large box in her arms. "'Lo Mum," Charlie greeted. 

"Hello Charlie! Is Mirela still sleeping?" Charlie nodded. "You're quite lucky you know. I could never get you to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time until you were three!" 

"It was worth it though wasn't it?" 

"Yes of course." Mrs. Weasley set the box down and held her arms out for her granddaughter. Mr. Weasley walked out of the kitchen, a set of spark plugs in his hands and a dopey grin on his face. 

"Molly! Look what I've found. They just left them here. Oh hello Charlie. Let me see this beautiful granddaughter of mine." Charlie handed over Mirela, ignoring his mother's glare. 

"I've started dinner; it's on the stove and should be ready in an hour. Now all of the boxes are unpacked. You make sure to floo us if anything goes wrong." She kissed Charlie's cheek and turned to Arthur who was rocking the little girl back and forth. "Arthur, we've that dinner with Kingsley." Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Goodbye sweet pea. Grandpa will come back to play with you very soon," he cooed, kissing her red peach fuzz. Mrs. Weasley took the baby and planted a kiss on her cheek before handing her back to Charlie. 

"Anything you need."

"Yes Mum, thank you."

"Even the most trivial, if you floo we can get out of dinner," his father added, earning him a swat from his wife. The couple disapperated and Charlie and Mirela were alone. 

"Well, we're home Rela Rue," he whispered. Her eyes flickered open and she gazed up at him. He smiled down at her. "You're not ever going to leave me are you dearest?" He could have sworn she smiled. Yes, this was right, this was healthy, and, at least at the moment, felt a little less like shit.

A/N: Hey people! I wasn't going to update so soon but a new baby was welcomed into my family today: Abigail Rebecca 7 pounds, 1 ounce so this is dedicated to her. As you can probably tell, this fic moves at a fast tick. The next chapter will take place when Mirela is five. REVIEW!


	3. Five Years Later: The Holiday

Disclaimer: JK own almost everything (not Mirela). e. e. cummings owns the poem. Don't sue; review!

"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it."

-Roald Dahl

"Ugh," Charlie groaned as something very bouncy collided with his stomach. The thing then proceeded to jump up and down on the bed, red hair flying every which way.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Mirela chirped in a sing-song voice, nudging him with her very cold feet. Charlie looked over at the alarm clock and groaned again.

"Rela love, why don't you let Daddy sleep for just an hour longer? You can watch TV if you want to, but Daddy is very tired."

"Daddy! Do you know what day it is?" she asked, ignoring his groggy supplication.

"No, what day is it?" he asked rolling his eyes. Mirela had talked of nothing else for the past two weeks. She let out an exasperated huff.

"Today's the day we go to the beach silly!" she exclaimed, resuming her bouncing. Charlie reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap. He pushed himself up against the headboard and ran a hand over his face.

"Can you just stay still for a second love? Daddy needs to get his bearings. What do you want for breakfast?" She turned her head to look at him, her red curls disheveled. She was wearing the princess pajamas Hermione had gotten her for Christmas and had numerous freckles dotting her small nose.

"Pancakes!" she exclaimed, jumping off of the bed. "With chocolate chips." She pulled Charlie up with her and he followed her to their small kitchen. He was only wearing his Chudley Cannons boxers, the rippling muscles of his chest exposed. He pulled down the pancake mix and chocolate chips.

"Rela love, will you get me a bowl please?" he asked, eyeing the five-year-old. If she wasn't doing something, she would get into all kinds of mischief. She darted to the cabinet and resurfaced with a large, green bowl. She grabbed the matching aprons Mrs. Weasley had embroidered for them. Charlie rolled his eyes but pulled the blue and green apron over his head and tied it behind his back. He tied Mirela's as well, and sat her up on the counter where she could oversee his preparation. He poured the floury pancake mix into the bowl and added the milk, letting Mirela crack the eggs and a tip in a little bit of cinnammen. He flicked his wand at the stove and the frying pan heated up immediately. He pulled down the bag of chocolate chips.

"Can I have chocolate chips Daddy?" Mirela asked, eyeing the bulging bag hungrily.

"Two."

"Five?" she asked, holding up her chubby hand and batting her eyes. "Because I'm five."

"Three," Charlie allowed. She rolled her eyes but dug her hand into the bag and retrieved the chocolate chips, tossing them into her mouth.

Just as they were sitting down at the table, the fire lit up and Mr. Weasley stumbled out. Mirela jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Hello Dad," Charlie greeted. "What are you doing here? We weren't supposed to meet at the Burrow for another hour and half."

"Your mother sent me here to check and make sure you were up." Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Tell Granny that _I _woke Daddy up." Mirela explained. "Do you want pancakes? Daddy made _loads_."

"I suppose I should stay then. I wouldn't want pancakes to go to waste now would I?" Mr. Weasley sat down at the table and Charlie placed a plate in front of him. Mr. Weasley balanced Mirela on his lap and dug in. "Are you excited about the holiday Mirela?" he asked. Her face split into a wide grin and Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Yes! I'm going to go to the aqu-aqu-"

"Aquarium"

"Yeah! And I'm going to build sandcastles and swim in the water, and see the fishies!" she finished with an exaggerated huff and Mr. Weasley laughed.

"My goodness; how are you going to fit all of that into a week?" She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Aren't you going to do all of those things with me Grandpa?"

"Maybe not _all _of those things."

"Please!" she pleaded, looking up at him with her large, blue eyes.

"We'll see," he allowed. All of his hopes for a peaceful, relaxing family holiday quickly evaporated. Of course, with his family, he should not have expected peace and quiet to begin with. Unfortunately, he wasn't really going to be the whole family. Percy and Audrey along with their two not-so-young-anymore daughters were going to visit Audrey's parents in California. Albus and Ally were going to Sierra Leone for Ally's brother's wedding. Rosie was on assignment still. Hugo, who had just become the new Keeper for the Chudley Cannons much to Ron's delight, had a game. George's son Fred was busy making wedding plans of his own and James, Sophie and baby Colin were on vacation with Sophie's family.

They had rented a large house in Yorkshire that could, at least ostensibly, fit everyone but he was more than a little afraid that they would kill each other before the week was out. Charlie poured himself and his father a cup of coffee before sitting down across from the older man and his daughter. Sometimes he had to marvel at her, his baby. He could not quite remember _not _wanting her. Though not the easiest child to rear, she had made every day of his life a blessing. It also helped that his mother minded her during the day while he was at work. Perhaps he wouldn't have seen her as so much of a blessing if he never got a break. "So, Dad, has Mum packed up the whole house?" Charlie asked, idly swishing around the coffee in his mug.

"I think she's got nearly everything we own!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "Of course I didn't expect any less. Your mother has always been and over-packer. When we went on our two day honeymoon, she packed three suitcases, _three_! What a woman needs with three suitcases for two days is completely beyond me. By the way, have you two packed?" Charlie nodded his head.

"Yes, all we have to do is get dressed and we're ready to go. Are Harry and Ginny meeting us there?" Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Yes as are Hermione and Ron. Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Teddy, Luis and Dominique are all at the house already."

"And George and Katie?"

"They're coming tomorrow. George had to do something with the shop." Charlie nodded slowly. Mr. Weasley finished up the last of his pancakes. "I should be getting back, make sure Molly hasn't completely ransacked the house. When will you two be over?"

"We'll come over in around an hour," Charlie answered simply. Mirela slid of her grandfather's lap, allowing him to stand up. She gave him a hug around the middle.

"I'll see you in a bit love," he said, ruffling her hair. He disapperated and Charlie began cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Mirela carried her plate and cup of half-drunk milk to the sink.

"Rela, you should get dressed. I will be in in a minute to do your hair okay?" Charlie requested. Mirela nodded and trotted off to her room. With a wave of his wand, the dishes set themselves to scrubbing and Charlie went to his own room to get dressed. He pulled a white button-up shirt over his bare chest. He then put on his favorite pair of jeans. They were old, older than Mirela. Maureen had bought them for him saying that they made him look "yummy". Charlie smiled at the memory as he finished up the last of his shirt buttons. He thrust his feet into a pair of leather thongs before going to check on Mirela.

Her room hadn't changed all that much. The crib had been replaced by a big-girl bed. Her coverlet no longer show-cased dragons; instead, it was covered with brightly colored flowers. She had her array of stuffed animals arranged on the bay window. She was currently pulling a pink polka-dotted shirt on over her purple striped skirt. She had on her bright red boots; yellow and green striped socks peaked out of the top. Charlie smiled softly to himself. Mirela had always had a distinct fashion sense. He pulled her delicate curls into a ponytail in which she secured a blue hair ribbon. "Daddy, can we bring my storybook?" she asked, examining her rather strange appearance in the mirror.

"Of course. You get your suitcase and I'll get mine and the book," he replied, kissing her on the top of the head. He continued down the hall to the study. He found her storybook. After pulling it from the bookshelf, he noticed a small green book wedged between a book on Welsh Dragon Breeding and an unused cookbook. He pulled it out and examined the spine. It was a book of e.e. cummings poems. There was a brightly colored bookmark sticking out from the top. He flipped it open.

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)_

_i am never without it_

_(anywhere i go you go, my dear;_

_and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)_ . . . but what caught his attention were the scribbles in the margins. It was a whole other poem written out in Maureen's loopy type. It had a date too, the year Mirela was born, the day . . .

_Sun child wake to the world._

_Wake to the blue sky and heartache,_

_feeling too much, too fully._

_Dip your feet in the cool water_

_And let it wash you, baptize you_

_in the name of nothing_

_in the name of everything._

_Sun child wake to the world._

_Hear the saddened cries,_

_the happy cheers._

_Hear the music,_

_Groove to the music_

_Wake to the music._

_Sun child run to the world._

_Her arms are open._

_Her heart is open._

_Her mouth is open._

_Let her eat you up_

_into the collective beat._

_Sun child name the world._

_Claim the world._

_Call the world._

_Save the world._

_See the world._

_Love, you must see._

He traced the words with his finger lovingly. She had cared, she must have. He sighed and brushed away the invisible tears that had materialized in his eyes. He put both books under his arm and exited the study. Mirela was standing in the hall, her pink kitty-cat suitcase in her small hand. He felt his heart clench.

"Daddy, did you find my story book? Uncle Ron promised to read me _Babbity Rabbity. _He's the only one who can do the voices."

"Yes dearest; I've got it right here. We should floo over the Burrow now." The little girl nodded and skipped to the fireplace. She opened the small green urn that stood beside the fire and grabbed a pinch, tossing it into the flames. Charlie shoved the books into his suitcase before flooing after Mirela.

_Evening_

The day had been a blur. They'd arrived in Yorkshire a bit after noon and Charlie and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been dragged by Mirela to the aquarium. Now, father and daughter were sitting out on the beach as the sun was going down. They had eaten a very large dinner before going out for a final swim and now had bowls of strawberry ice cream. Both had that almost sticky, fresh feeling after the sun has dried the skin. Mirela was resting her head on her father's knee, letting him stroke her hair with his free hand.

"Look Daddy! It's the first star!" she exclaimed, somewhat tiredly. Charlie looked up at the sky, the last vestiges of daylight sinking down over the ocean.

"Make a wish," Charlie suggested.

"Okay, I wish-"

"If you tell me dearest, it won't come true." She nodded and craned her neck, gazing at the glittering ball of gas.

"Are you going to make a wish?" she asked, looking up into his face. He smiled fondly and pulled her onto his lap, letting her sink into his arms, bowls of ice cream forgotten at the moment.

"All of my dreams have come true," he whispered into her ear, hugging her to him. They sat like that as all of the stars blinked into being, content with their silent moments together. Charlie felt her relax against him, succumbing to the fatigue her full day had elicited. She was his blessing, his life, his joy, his everything. He stroked her red curls gently, humming a soft lullaby . . .

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows_

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_

_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows_

_higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)_

_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)_

A/N: My thesis is done!! Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit happier than the last one; I'm just in that mood and MBP and Bad Mum and Cassandra's Cross have generated enough angst this week;) JUST REVIEW!!


	4. Six Years Later: King's Cross

Disclaimer; I own only Mirela, Remus, and Dora (along with any other minor character you don't recognize). The rest belongs to JK Rowling. The poem belongs to Charles Kingsley.

_I  
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;  
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:  
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you  
For every day.  
II  
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;  
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:  
And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever  
One grand, sweet song._

"Da-ad!" Mirela called down the hall. She bounced impatiently on the balls of her feat and kept checking her new wrist watch. "We're going to be late!"

"We're not going to be late," Charlie grumbled, appearing from her bedroom, levitating her school trunk in front of him. "You're sure you have everything?" She nodded. "Okay, let's go." He didn't look like he was ready to go at all though and his eyes were distinctly shiny as he stepped toward the fireplace. She went through first and, with one last glance around the room, Charlie followed. They appeared in Teddy and Victoire's scrubbed kitchen. Teddy had inherited his father's old family cottage and, after some renovation, it was the picture of coziness. As Charlie didn't have a car, they would be catching a ride with Teddy, Remus and Dora.

"Uncle Charlie!" a very pregnant Victoire greeted. She got up and embraced him before giving Mirela a warm hug. "Have you had breakfast?" Charlie nodded quickly, not wanting to risk talking.

"Are they ready to go?" Mirela asked.

"They should be. Why don't you go hurry them along. Make sure Teddy hasn't gone back to sleep," Victoire addressed her young cousin affectionately. Mirela darted up the stairs to Dora's room. Victoire turned her impossibly blue eyes to Charlie. She looked so like his sister-in-law it was scary but there was definitely something of Bill in those eyes. "How are you holding up?" she asked, patting the chair beside hers.

"What do you mean?"

"Uncle Charlie, I know you and I know Weasley men. Dad was driven nearly to tears when I left for my first year and Teddy's hair was a very cloudy gray for two weeks after Remus and Dora left."

"I'm just going to miss her so much and I'm already worried if people are going to be nice to her and if she's going to like Hogwarts. I just have this constant ache in my chest that won't seem to go away." Charlie sunk down into the chair.

"Remus thinks of her as a little sister; he'll make sure she's looked after and Dora's just a door away."

"Thanks. Hey, how are you?" Charlie asked, gesturing toward her swollen stomach.

"Oh me? I'm fine, big, pregnant, huge feet but good."

"Does it feel weird to be pregnant again after thirteen years? You weren't exactly planning this were you?"

Victoire snorted, shaking her head. "No, we certainly were not, but I'm really happy. I'm just glad it's not another set of twins. I don't think Teddy and I could keep up."

"When are you due?"

"Two weeks to go, September 16th."

"Have you decided on a name?" Charlie asked, looking into her face and finding the ever-present "mummy" spark in her eyes. She nodded.

"Emily Madeleine, one English name, one French to appease Mum."

"Bill is very excited." Charlie said with a grin. Victoire rolled her eyes but was kept from saying anything by the entrance of her two older children. They both looked a bit disgruntled but none-the-less had their backpacks slung over their backs and matching owl cages in hand.

"Come here and let me get a good look at you," Victoire commanded. They both complied. As she was saying her goodbyes, Teddy appeared looking disheveled and grumpy.

"Thanks again for taking us to King's Cross Teddy," Charlie thanked him.

He nodded tiredly and ran a hand over his face. "No problem."

Charlie looked around for Mirela but didn't see her. He exited the kitchen to let the Lupin's make their goodbyes in private. He quickly caught sight of his daughter. She was sitting on the loveseat, staring at the fireplace. She kept clenching and unclenching her hands nervously. "What are you thinking about sweet pea?" He took the seat next to her and put his arm around her. She turned into his shirt and started to cry softly. He rubbed comforting circles on her back.

"I d-d-don't w-w-want to go," she sobbed.

"Shh, shh honey. You seemed so excited yesterday."

"I-I-I know it's just, I've never s-s-s-spent s-s-so long away from home."

"Oh sweet pea, you're going to love Hogwarts. All of us felt like this when we first left home. You will get used to school and you'll make lots of lovely friends and I'll always be here if you need to talk. You'll be home for Christmas and I'll write lots of letters . . . It's okay to be homesick you know. I'm going to miss you so much." Charlie felt his chest hitch dangerously. Mirela turned her tear stained face up toward him.

"Really?"

"Are you kidding? Who's going to help me with the garden? Who's going to make me the best sugar cookies on the planet? I'm going to miss you _way _more than you'll miss me but we'll both just have to get through it. I love you Rela-roo." She blushed scarlet.

"Dad! You can't call me that anymore. I'm a Hogwarts student now," she sniffed but grinned widely.

"Oh I can't can I?" Charlie wiggled his fingers threateningly causing her to yelp and try to get as far from him as possible. He quickly found her most sensitive area: under her arm pits and began tickling her mercilessly.

"Stop Dad Stop!" she pleaded, panting. After a few moments of ruthless tickling, he pulled her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on top of her head.

Much too quickly for father or daughter, they were piled into the car with Teddy and the twins on the way to King's Cross. It was a quiet trip as the Lupin's were too tired to do much in the way of conversation. They arrived and Charlie and Teddy got trolleys. They sidled through the barrier and Dora and Remus ran off to find their friends. Teddy caught sight of a co-worker, leaving Charlie and Mirela alone. "So I guess this is goodbye Rela," Charlie spit out, looking down at his baby girl. She was so old! She now came up above his shoulders and had long, beautiful red curls. She had inherited her mother's small nose, her full, shapely lips, his blue eyes. She had chosen her outfit meticulously, finally landing on her favorite pair of jeans, pink button-up shirt and delicate pink sandals. She looked far too old to be his daughter.

"You'll write me?" she asked, her voice much softer than normal.

"Of course. You'll owl me as soon as you've been sorted?" Charlie asked. She nodded. "Remember honey, I'm only a floo away and Remus and Dora are right there too. I love you dearest." He pulled her into a hug. "You better get on board. The train's about to leave." She nodded resolutely and the two marched toward the scarlet engine. Remus and his friend Edgar Lynch helped load her trunk before quickly ushering her to the compartment they were sharing with Dora and her friends Maggie and Laura.

Mirela leaned out the window and waved goodbye to her father as the train pulled away toward Hogwarts. Charlie swallowed his tears and waved back. As soon as it had disappeared in a billow of steam, however, he couldn't hold back. A single tear leaked down his cheek. He quickly batted it away and took a deep breath. She wasn't really leaving was she?

Teddy walked up behind him and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "How about a stiff drink Charlie?" The red head nodded emphatically. That was _exactly _what he needed.


	5. Three Years Later: Futures and Spoons

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mirela

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mirela. The poem is an excerpt from Christopher Morley's "Animal Crackers". Enjoy and R&R!!_  
_

_"The kitchen's the coziest place that I know;  
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow,  
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see  
The cocoa and animals waiting for me."_

_-Christopher Morley_

Charlie sat at the breakfast table, looking at Mirela's marks from the past term. Most of them were fine, most of them. Some of them, on the other hand, were downright abysmal. He knew that, as a parent, he was supposed to do something. His parents had hadn't they? That's what parents were supposed to do. He ran his hand through his hair and over his face, scratching at the day-old stubble that had materialized. He swilled the coffee in his mug pensively. What was he supposed to do? Her marks were no worse than his had been in school and his parents' chiding and punishments _for_ those marks had done absolutely nothing to alter his study habits. He had turned out fine. So Mirela wasn't a scholar, so what? Still, there was a nagging voice in his head that sounded a hell of a lot like his mother telling him that her marks were inexcusable.

She had always been a smart girl, bright and enthusiastic. Why wasn't she getting good marks? He sighed. He couldn't spank her. He found any form of corporal punishment nauseating. He couldn't do it and, more importantly, he didn't think it would actually succeed in anything but making her afraid of him. Stern lectures had never been his forte and grounding her would annoy him more than punish her. To be completely honest, Charlie had never been very good at discipline. Whenever she mouthed off or misbehaved, he had always made her do the only thing that seemed to clear his head when _he _had a head full of steam. She was banned from the house and told to run until she could speak with him calmly and rationally. For the most part, it had worked quite well but that particular punishment didn't seem to fit this situation very well.

Her less than graceful entrance saved him from any more mental gymnastics. Her long hair was disheveled and she wore a long t-shirt and a pair of his old, tattered boxer shorts. She gave him a weak wave before opening the refrigerator and retrieving the pint of milk inside. He watched as she poured herself a bowl of cereal and set the breakfast on the table before falling into a chair and starting her breakfast. He cleared his throat tentatively and she looked up, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Mirela," he began softly, averting his eyes.

"Yes Dad?" she asked hoarsely.

"I just received your marks." He held up the offending piece of parchment and she nodded knowingly. "Care to explain?"

She sighed and set down her spoon. "They weren't all bad were they? I thought I did decently in Potions and Herbology and I was pretty good shots at DADA and Charms. I aced my Care of Magical Creatures Exam."

He bit back his frustration. "Yes, you did fine in _some _of your classes," he replied irritably. "That's not the point. You very nearly failed Transfiguration and History and you _did _fail Divination. I expected better of you."

She bit her bottom lip and looked at him contritely. "I know," she sighed. "I just haven't had a lot of time lately."

"What?" he asked, his blood running cold. Was this a boy? Was a boy the reason she didn't have much time? He had been dreading it ever since her first year and they had gotten through her fourth. He had begun to hope that she would swear them off entirely.

"Well," she began, fiddling with the handle of her spoon. "I've been taking some extra lessons."

The iron hold on his chest loosened slightly. "Extra lessons?" She nodded, blushing. "What kind of extra lessons?" he asked. Clearly she was not going to make this easy.

"With the House Elves in the kitchens," she answered finally. That wasn't what he had been expecting. He had half hoped she was going to say that she'd been taking Quidditch lessons and would be joining the house team.

"What are you learning from them? Are you going to be a cleaning lady?" he asked, chuckling a little at the mental image of _his _daughter cleaning _anything. _

"Cooking," she answered simply, blushing even redder.

"Oh," he breathed. It all made sense now. She had always been interested in cooking. He supposed it was a side effect of her many afternoons spent with her grandmother. After he'd decided he wanted to work with dragons, he hadn't given much thought to his other classes either.

"I've been sneaking down every chance I got, in between classes, at night, in the mornings before lessons. They've even let me help with a couple of meals," she pushed on, excitement creeping into her voice.

"That's why you've been skiving off on your lessons? You've been down in the kitchens?" Charlie asked incredulously. Mirela nodded.

"What do you think?" she asked hesitantly. He paused. He didn't know how to feel other than a bit relieved that it wasn't a boy she'd been wasting time with. He did know, however, that this was one of those defining moments in their relationship, the point at which they would either diverge or become closer. Percy and Lucy had come to a similar point in their relationship and they were no longer speaking. He needed to choose his words carefully.

"This is what is making you happy?" he asked. She nodded. "Then that's really all I could hope for. However," Mirela groaned. "These marks are inexcusably, no matter how you are spending your time," he put in, waving the parchment. "You will bring up your marks or I will just have to let it slip to a certain prefect that you are sneaking out after hours." Mirela nodded excitedly.

"I will get them up Dad, I promise!" She dove across the breakfast table, nearly upsetting her cereal bowl in the process, and threw her arms around her father's neck. He laughed.

"I always thought Divination was bullocks anyway. I do expect to reap the benefits of these lessons over the summer holiday though," he added, smoothing her red locks. Her face split into a grin.

"Of course! You'll be surprised. They've taught me a lot. I know how to make a seven course French meal now, complete with duck liver and Gallette des Rois for afters."

"I have no idea what the second thing you said was and that's a resounding no on duck liver but I'll be looking forward to anything else you decide to cook." Mirela laughed and ruffled her dad's hair before sitting back down in her chair and diving into her cereal with gusto.

A/N: I know it's been a REALLY long time. I've been rather busy with the end of the semester though and I really should be studying for finals right now but I couldn't resist. I hope you all liked it. Tell me what you think!


	6. Two Years Later: Fitzpatrick

Disclaimer: I only own Mirela Disclaimer: I only own Mirela. The rest belongs to JK Rowling. REVIEW!! "_A father . . . knows exactly what those boys at the mall have in their depraved little minds because he once owned such a depraved little mind himself. In fact, if he thinks enough about the plans that he used to have for young girls, the father not only will support his wife in keeping their daughter home but he might even run over to the mall and have a few of those boys arrested."_ _-Bill Cosby_

"Shh!" Mirela hissed, gripping the back of Henry's neck tightly, trying to steady herself in his arms. "If you wake my dad there will be hell to pay." Henry nodded, his face, first red from the effort of carrying her up the winding hill in front of her house, went pale. Just the idea of her father had always scared him. Hoisting her up a bit more, he maneuvered his hand, finding the doorknob. The door swung open and Mirela did a quick spell to keep the alarms from going off. He stumbled into the dark living room, nearly careening into a bookcase but steadied himself. He did succeed in running Mirela's injured leg into the wall however, causing her to let out an involuntary grunt of pain. In an instant, the lights went on, revealing a very angry pair of Weasleys.

"Hullo Mr. Weasley," Henry whimpered, looking down at the floor, what little color he had managed to regain evaporating.

"Uncle Bill, fancy seeing you here," Mirela stated, blushing.

"What's going on? What happened to your leg?" Charlie asked, gesturing at the limb, which was bandaged to the knee.

"What did you do to her?" Bill asked, his eyes narrowed.

"It was nothing really. I just fell out of a tree," Mirela answered before Henry could stutter his way into more trouble.

"Put her down," Charlie ordered, gesturing at the couch and glaring at the tall Ravenclaw. Henry immediately complied. "Now I'm going to give you about five seconds to get out of here before I pummel you." Henry wasted no time and was out the door before Charlie got to three.

"Wuss," Mirela muttered. Charlie and Bill turned to her, their arms crossed over their chests. Bill raised his eyebrows.

"Who was that?" Charlie asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowed. Mirela looked between the two of them, brushing a curl out of her face.

"Henry Fitzgerald, my boyfriend," she answered simply.

"Your boyfriend?" Charlie boomed. "You don't have a boyfriend!"

"Yes I do actually. We've been going out since Christmas."

"How is it that _your _grandson didn't tell me about this?" Charlie asked, whirling around to face Bill.

"I don't know; I'm just as surprised by this whole thing as you are."

"Remus doesn't know. No one at school knows except Carl and Izzy. I knew you would flip out so I didn't tell you and I knew Remus would tell and Dora couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it so I made sure neither of them knew." Mirela finished with an exaggerated exhale. Charlie began pacing and, in the process bumped her leg which was perched precariously on the coffee table. She winced and both men jumped.

"I completely forgot about your leg," Charlie intoned, mentally kicking himself.

"It's really not a big deal. Henry just, well, he got nervous. He always blows things out of proportion. I can walk just fine."

"We'll be the judges of that thank you," Bill said sternly. "Now let's get a look at that leg." Gingerly, Bill pulled back the bandages. There was a long, narrow cut down the length of her shin, all the way from her knee to a couple of centimeters above her ankle. "Merlin's pants! What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do _anything_. We were, well, we were _climbing a tree_," she said, making it clear from the emphasis that they were doing quite a bit more. "I lost my balance; out I fell and landed on a really nasty, jagged rock. Henry freaked out, nearly broke his neck getting down from the tree, bandaged up my leg and apparated me home."

"I'll kill him," Charlie growled. Mirela rolled her eyes.

"That's really not necessary you know."

"I think it's time for a little chat," Bill said, looking at his brother significantly.

"What? No, there's no need for a chat with Henry. No, just, hey, what about my leg?" Mirela asked, trying and failing to sound non-challant. This was not going as planned. Charlie, who was well practiced in fixing small injuries, flicked his wand at her leg. The pain disappeared but she found it very difficult to get up with the tight wrappings and brace that now entombed her offending appendage.

"We'll do it tomorrow," Charlie suggested. "I'll get Harry, Ron and George if you'll get Dad, Percy and Remus."

"Will do. Goodnight sweet pea." He kissed his niece on the top of her curly head, ignoring her muttered protestations. "I will see _you_ tomorrow," he hugged Charlie briefly before disapparating.

"Dad," Mirela began, leveling him with her gaze. "Henry is a really good guy and there is no need to scare him. Merlin knows you frightened him enough tonight."

"We're not trying to scare him. You just hid him and we never got a chance to get to know him. That's all we're doing," Charlie replied, scooping her up in his arms.

"Oh for fuck's sake! I can bloody well walk on my own!" she exclaimed.

"Watch your mouth young lady and if you let Henry Fitzpatrick-"

"Fitzgerald."

"Right, if you let Fitzpatrick carry you home, you won't begrudge your dad, the man who diapered your behind, the same right." Mirela blushed deeply, all the way up to her ears. Once to her room, he lay her down in her bed and smoothed down her curls. "I love you dearest," he smiled. She replied with an irritated grunt.

Her room had changed a lot over the years. The flowered wallpaper and line of dolls had been replaced with rows upon rows of cookbooks. Framed pictures of her and Charlie on holiday, her friends and her at Quidditch games, parties, in the library, etc. hung on the now green walls. She had hung up a large poster of the Hollyhead Harpies Ginny had given her for her birthday. Hermione had given her the S.P.E.W poster that now hung over her bed, a rusty antique brass frame she and Charlie had found in a junk yard at the beach. Her bedspread was a Tree of Life throw Albus had brought her back from India. Her beloved antique, blue 1950 Macleans Featherweight 362-3 club bicycle was leaning against the wall next to a stack of "The Magical Cook", her favorite magazine. In it, Mirela Weasley slept, albeit fitfully.

The next morning, in a last ditch effort to keep her dad from dismembering her boyfriend, Mirela got up early to make breakfast. She was making his favorites: blueberry lemon waffles with honey mascarpone, ham and broccoli omelets; she'd even thrown in a strong bellini. She was just finishing up the last waffle when Charlie stumbled down the stairs. "Good morning Dad," she greeted brightly. He was caught off guard by how grown up she looked in a pair of too-short running shorts and an over-large t-shirt that he did not remember being his own. He shuddered at the thought. Her fly-away hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she had a streak of flower smeared over her cheek. "I made your favorites," she said, setting the fizzing bellini before him.

"It smells delicious," he replied appreciatively. He took a sip of the drink. "That's rather strong," he mused, looking at her curiously. "You wouldn't be trying to soften me up with alcohol before I speak to Fitzpatrick now would you?"

"His _name _is Henry Fitz_gerald_ Dad and, in answer to your question, of course not. Can't I do something nice for my father once and a while?"

"No, not really, though I appreciate it none-the-less. It doesn't matter anyway; nothing you do or say is going to keep me from doing exactly what I was going to do in the first place."

"Get to know him right?" Mirela asked, putting down his plate a little too forcefully. She set the bowl of mascarpone in front of him a little more gingerly.

"Right. Now, are there any modifications I should be looking for?"

"There's a new spice in the waffles and I used a little bit of heavy cream in the omelet." She spat, trying to sound irritated. She sat down across from him, glaring at him as he ate. He had to admit that it was distracting him a bit from his otherwise delicious meal.

"What?" he asked finally, setting down his fork.

"Why are you doing this Dad? Why call in the inquisition? Don't you trust me judgement?" Charlie groaned.

"You wouldn't understand would you?! Of course I trust your judgement! I just don't trust _him_. I don't trust _him_ the slightest. I was seventeen once too."

"Henry is perfectly wonderful. If you must know, anything we've done, I've initiated. He wanted to take things slow, hold hands but, well, I didn't. If you want to blame anyone, blame me." She finished with her eyebrows raised, challenging him to say anything more. Charlie felt like he was going to be sick. He began to feel the waffles churning in his stomach.

"Please don't tell me anymore. I'm going to be sick."

"Are you still going to interrogate him?" Mirela asked.

"We were never going to interrogate him. We were just going to _get to know_ him." It was Mirela's turn to groan.

"Bullocks! You're trying to scare him away! I'm _happy _with him. He makes me _happy _and you're trying to spoil _everything_!"

"If he's worth his snuff, he'll be able stand a bit of a chat," Charlie shot back irritably.

"You don't understand! He's already deathly afraid of you and he's got asthma for Merlin's sake! I found _that _out the hard way."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charlie boomed, standing up and upsetting his chair. Mirela blushed, realizing what she'd said.

"'S nothing. We, were, well, we were _on the couch_ and, well, one thing led to another and it ended with him locked in the bathroom with his inhaler." Mirela replied, examining her hands.

"Ugh!" Charlie exclaimed, beginning to pace. "I can't believe my _daughter_ . . . and a _boy_," it was then that his mumblings became incoherent. Mirela followed his pacing with her eyes. She couldn't help but think that she had just made matters worse for Henry Fitzgerald.

Two hours later, Mirela was at the Burrow, trying to focus on anything other than what was happening in the yard. Charlie, without informing her ahead of time, had owled Henry, asking him to dinner with the family. Mirela later found out that he had written that they should meet properly, that he had feigned penitence, calling his behavior the previous night out of line. He had then sent their family owl, Nascha out on a trip to Romania and had kept Mirela away from the fire.

She was now cutting carrots for a large salad. Henry was in the backyard with the Weasley men, though Dora had promised to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn't physically harm him in anyway. "Mirela, Mirela," her grandmother's voice brought her back.

"Yes Gran?" she asked, shaking out of her stupor.

"When did you meet Harold?"

"Henry Gran, and we met in the library." Victoire, who was sitting at the table braiding five year old Emily's hair, snorted. "Hey, I go into the library!"

"Your marks would suggest otherwise," Mrs. Weasley put in sternly. Mirela blushed.

"Yes, well, I was looking up a book on magical herbs and he was looking in the same section for a book on botony and we bumped heads."

"That's so sweet!" Victoire exclaimed, tugging a little too hard on Emily's hair eliciting a yelp from the little girl. "Sorry love," Victoire apologized. "Teddy and I never really got to do that whole meet for the first time thing. We'd known each other forever!"

"We always knew you were going to end up together, Arthur and I did. You two fit like puzzle pieces," Mrs. Weasley beamed fondly at her granddaughter. "Do you and Henry fit together like puzzle pieces Mirela?"

"I don't know. I lo- I mean _like _him a lot. He's different then the others. I just hope Dad and all of them don't scare him off."

"Don't worry love. They all go through it."

"Teddy didn't, not really." Mirela said.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Teddy was pretty scared of your Uncle Bill," Victoire replied. "I believe your dad threatened him a couple of times as well."

"Yeah . . . " Mirela looked out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the goings on.

Meanwhile, in the garden, Henry Fitzgerald's throat was tightening as he stared at the menacing group of men. He recognized several of them of course. Ron and George he knew from the WWW advertisements. Harry Potter was, well, Harry Potter. He recognized Charlie and Bill from the night before. He backed up slowly, feeling the wall of the garden shed against his back. He was cornered.

"What business do you have with my daughter?" Charlie asked coolly.

"Well, she, she's my girlfriend. We, well, we l-l-like each other." Henry had never been one for confrontation. He avoided it whenever possible, preferring the comforting straight forwardness of books.

"What have you done with her? Have you had sex with her?" Percy asked bluntly. Charlie visibly paled.

"No! N-no, of course not! We haven't done more than kiss," Henry answered, his voice rising an octave.

"You _kissed _her?!" Remus exclaimed, flexing his muscles menacingly.

"Don't lash out right now Remus," Bill ordered. The "right now" was threat enough for Henry. He could feel his airway constricting and he fished around frantically in his pocket, his fingers closing around his inhaler. He brought it out and took a long puff.

"What is that?" Arthur asked, not able to hold his menacing façade.

"I-it's my inhaler. I have asthma and they haven't really found a magical cure for it. My mum is a muggle," Henry explained, happy not to be talking about what he did and did not do with Mirela.

"Is she indeed?" Arthur asked, grinning from ear to ear. "And what did you say you had? Athma?"

"No, asthma. It's this disease that makes it hard for me to breathe sometimes," Henry stated nervously. "Especially when I get frightened or startled.

"Dinner's ready," Molly called from the house. Henry breathed a sigh of relief and started toward the house, only to be intercepted by a very angry Charlie.

"You may have gotten out of bodily harm for now Fitzpatrick but I swear to Merlin, if I catch you pawing my daughter or hurt her again in anyway, I will find you and neuter you." Henry shivered. He certainly didn't want to be _neutered_. He also had a sinking suspicion that Charlie Weasley was not joking either. But Mirela was worth it, wasn't she?

A/N: Hey kids! I hope you're doing wonderfully. I am supposed to be studying for my last exam (Environmental Science if you must know) but I decided to finish this instead! I hope you liked it; please, please, please tell me what you think!!


	7. Lost Love at the Ginger Bakery

Disclaimer: I own Mirela, Henry and the plot. The rest belongs to JK Rowling. REVIEW!!

_"I have no will to weep or sing,  
No least desire to pray or curse;  
The loss of love is a terrible thing;  
They lie who say that death is worse."_

_-Countee Cullen_

The door to the shop opened and Mirela looked up from her mango ginger truffles. The bakery had not been open much longer than a month but she already had a modest following and the annual projections looked better than she had hoped for. Still, there were momentary lulls in business, especially on humid Wednesday afternoons. She had sent home her only employee, a retired potioneer her cousin Albus had met years before.

After graduating Hogwarts (with surprisingly passable marks), Mirela had gone to culinary school in France. After that, she had done a brief stint in New Zealand patisserie. At the ripe old age of twenty one, she had returned to England, not wanting to work for any one else. She was tired of catering to other's culinary imagination. She wanted a chance to stretch her wings and experiment with flavors and construction, to create her own gastronomical experience. So, with a little help from her Uncle Bill, she secured a loan from Gringotts and began looking for possible locations. She found yet more luck in family ties as her Uncle Ron's seat on the Diagon Alley's Business Bureau helped her land a prime spot. While she waited for construction to end and zoning permits to be signed, she worked as a private caterer, getting her name circulating in the wizarding world.

"Hullo Mirela," the man at the door greeted softly, shuffling his feet. She felt herself freeze. For a moment, she was unable to speak.

"Hi Henry," she replied in a whisper.

"The shop looks fantastic!" Henry said a little too enthusiastically.

"Thanks . . . Henry, why are you here?"

"Oh, yes, well, I have a bit of a favor to ask of you," he blurted out, blushing. For a second she thought he was going to -but no, that wasn't possible.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could bake my wedding cake." His face split into a nervous grin. She felt her spine turn to ice as she searched for words.

"Oh," she managed finally. "So you're getting married then?" Henry nodded.

"I proposed to Linda on Easter. We're getting married on October 3rd."

"October 3rd," she repeated, her voice vacant. Shaking herself out of her stupor she forced a grin onto her face.

"Well congratulations!" She set down the truffle and wiped the chocolate off of her hands and onto her already stained apron before coming out from behind the counter. "Let me give you a proper hug." She embraced him clumsily.

"So, what do you say? Can you do our wedding cake?"

"Let me go check my calendar." Mirela hurried to the back room, emerging a moment later with a large green planner. "October 3rd looks fine."

"Good, good. Well, I suppose Linda and I will come back some other time to go over the specifics."

"Sure, that would be great Henry. I'll see you later." She was saved from anymore awkward conversation by the entrance of a large group of Nigerian tourists. Henry left with a nervous wave.

Five o'clock seemed like it was never going to come. She found herself looking at her wristwatch several times a minute, each time wondering how no time could have passed. When closing time did roll around, however, and she had cleaned up the shop, Mirela found that she had no place to go. She did not want to be alone so her flat was out. She didn't especially want to go out with friends either. The only place she could think of to go was her Dad's. Before she knew it, she was shoving her key in the door.

When she entered the living room however, she found it dark and empty. She felt a sob claw up her throat. She needed her dad. She knew that he was probably at Shell Cottage but she did not especially want to face her Uncle. He would be hopelessly practical about the whole affair and point out that _he _had never liked Henry to begin with. She curled up on the couch and let herself submit to her pitiful weeping.

Charlie returned from the grocery store an hour later to find his daughter sobbing on the couch. His chest constricted. What was wrong? What had happened? "Mirela?"

"D-d-dad?" she whimpered.

"Yes honey, I'm here. What's the matter?" He sat down beside her and drew her to his chest. He rubbed circles on her back and kissed the top of her head softly. She couldn't answer for a bit as her sobs became more violent but she was finally able to control herself enough to tell him what was wrong.

"H-h-henry's g-g-getting m-m-married!" She cried. It all made sense! Of course she was reacting like this. Their breakup had been anything but clean and painless. From what he could gather, he had wanted her to settle down so they could get married and start a family and she wasn't ready. He couldn't blame her. She had only been seventeen at the time, hardly when one should be thinking about settling down.

"Oh sweet heart," he murmured sympathetically.

"I j-j-just always thought we'd end up together you know, when I came back. B-b-but now he's g-g-getting married to _Linda_ and I don't kn-know what I'm g-g-going to do!"

"Shh, shh, it's going to be alright darling. You were too good for him anyway." Charlie had hoped to make her feel better with this comment but, as her sobs increased, he realized that he was doing the opposite.

"H-he was t-t-too good for m-m-me. I'm never going to get married!"

"Oh yes you will, yes you will. You'll see."

"N-n-no I won't! I'm difficult and selfish."

"You are no such thing!"

"I only thought about what _I_ wanted. H-he w-w-wanted to g-g-get married and I s-s-said n-n-no."

"You were seventeen Mirela! I wouldn't have _let _you get married. That was too young and look at all you have accomplished. If you and Henry had gotten married and you had given up your dream, you would have always resented him." While Charlie's words sounded very reasonable, on the inside he was imaging ripping the little twerp limb from limb. "How do you know he's getting married anyway?"

"He c-came into, into the shop today. H-he w-w-wants me t-t-to bake his wedding c-c-cake," Mirela managed before turning into his already sopping robes.

"He shouldn't have done that."

"He was just trying to be nice," Mirela hiccupped.

"Come on, up you get. We're going to get you some tea and then I'm going to put you to bed." Charlie pulled her up and put a protective arm around her, leading her to the kitchen. She made a vague protest but didn't try to break away from his comforting embrace. She could be embarrassed tomorrow. For the moment, she was going to let Daddy take care of her as she wallowed in self pity.

A/N: Exams are over! I'd say I'm about three/four chapters away from the end of this fic. REVIEW!!


	8. The Onerous Mr Malcolm

Disclaimer: I own Mirela, Mr. Malcolm and any other characters you don't recognize. The rest belong to Ms. JK Rowling.

_"The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which tuned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend."_

_-Jane Austin, Pride and Prejudice_

"Okay, I want a plate of every hors d'oeuvre for final tasting," Mirela commanded. Her small kitchen staff rushed to comply and within a matter of moments, six beautiful bites sat in front of her. She tasted the first, a mini pear and goat cheese pizza; it needed a bit more salt. The next, proshuto wrapped asparagus, was perfect. She went on tasting the next four adding a little of this and little of that. Percy had told her in no uncertain terms that everything had to be perfect.

After the opening of her bakery, she had done virtually no catering. When Percy needed to throw a small corporate party at the Ministry, however, trying to secure England's spot as host of the next year's biannual International Confederation of Wizards and Witches conference, he had immediately asked her. He seemed to think that the more connections he could make between himself and his successful relatives the better.

After making sure the hors d'oeuvres were successfully plated and the servers knew what to do, Mirela pulled off her apron. She had bought a new dress for the occasion, hoping that she could pull herself out of her Henry funk and get a date (or at least a good shag) out of the evening. It was deep blue and a bit poofier than she was used to but it set off her now tanned skin and copper hair quite nicely. She slipped off her clogs and slid her feet into elegant black peep-toes Dora had helped her pick out. She pulled her hair from its pony tail and checked it in a hanging sauce pan. Sufficiently primped, she emerged from the kitchen.

The room was full to bursting with Ministry big-wigs and diplomats in different stages of inebriation. All of the men were in their nicest dress robes and the women in a dazzling array of brightly colored cocktail dresses (as was now the fashion). She made a b-line for the bar and ordered herself a gin and tonic (easy on the tonic). By the time she turned, drink in hand, the first wave of hors d'oeuvres was already circulating. Her uncle soon caught sight of her and waved her over with a large fake smile plastered over his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my niece Mirela. She's the one who is catering this event." Mirela blushed.

"This caviar is amazing. Wherever did you get it?" a very posh older witch asked.

"It's dragon caviar from this rare breed from Madagascar. They are very small and naturally shed their eyes every year. It's quite fascinating actually," Mirela answered quickly, hoping Percy's guests wouldn't be turned off by the idea.

"How very interesting," the older wizard standing next to the woman exclaimed in a heavy Bulgarian accent.

"You say she's your niece Weasley?" an Italian wizard asked, eyeing her a bit too closely for her liking.

"Excuse me Uncle Percy; I think I see a waiter who needs instructing. I hope you all enjoy the evening." She quickly sidled toward the corner of the room. She'd momentarily forgotten how much she hated cocktail parties. She stood awkwardly against the wall and took a gulp from her glass. A moment later, a tall, attractive man walked toward her. He had dark curly hair and large gray-blue eyes.

"Hello, I don't think we've met before," he stated suavely, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Edward Malcolm."

"Mirela Weasley," she said breathlessly, shaking his hand.

"Any relation to Percy Weasley?"

"Yes, he's my uncle. Do you work in his department?"

"My father does. He dragged me here and it's rather a bore isn't it." Mirela smiled, nodding slightly.

"I was never one for cocktail parties really." She added politely.

"Well, they can be fun, especially if they get the right caterer but, well, Mr. Weasley clearly called some cheap, inexperienced yokel who wouldn't know the difference between fois gras and palmiers if his life depended on it." Mirela felt her temper flair.

"What is it you don't like about the food exactly?" she asked in a would-be calm voice.

"Well, it's obvious that the chef, and I use the term loosely, line cook is more like it, is trying too hard, clearly stepping past his expertise. The food is a bit bland and pretentious without being sophisticated. The flavor profiles are just not there." Mirela had the urge to throw the rest of her gin and tonic in his face but it would be a waste of perfectly good liquor. "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you. I know Mr. Weasley is your uncle. I'm sure he didn't know how bad this caterer was." Mirela could have punched him and would have except that Percy chose that exact moment to walk up to her.

"Mirela! You're a huge hit. Everyone loves the food. I've received so many compliments. Oh, so I see you've met young Malcolm here. How are you doing my boy?" Mirela was glad to see that Mr. Malcolm had paled slightly.

"I'm fine sir. It's quite a party."

"Yes, and did you know that my Mirela here catered the whole event?"

"I didn't sir," he said softly, studying his shoes which now seemed very interesting.

"Mr. Malcolm was just telling me that he thought the food, what was it, oh yes, lacked sophistication. I was about to apologize to you Uncle for ruining your party," Mirela said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Both men seemed a bit speechless. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go freshen up my drink," she said, shaking her half empty glass, the ice clinking merily. She walked off toward the bar leaving Mr. Malcolm to his embarrassment.

The rest of the evening went more smoothly, though Mirela kept having to avoid Mr. Malcolm who continuously tried to inch his way toward her. As far as she was concerned, that little worm of a man didn't exist. She got endless compliments on the food and had new orders lined up, along with reassurances that her bakery would be getting a lot more business.

The next morning when she went into work, she was nursing a bit of a headache but the money she had just deposited into her Gringotts account helped alleviate the worst of the pain. She had just begun to sprinkle her new peanut butter apple cupcakes with toffee when the little bell above the door tinkled. She looked up, expecting to find David Harris, her assistant but was instead greeted by the sight of a very contrite Mr. Malcolm. He had a bouquet of tulips in his one hand, the other carrying an expensive-looking leather briefcase. She rolled her eyes and went back to her toffee-ing.

"I came here because I felt-feel terrible about what happened last night," he began his voice so slippery and suave she nearly gagged. "I was just trying to impress a beautiful lady and I guess I left all of my good manners behind me."

"Pfst," Mirela let out, rolling her eyes again.

"That sounds like a line doesn't it?"

"Mr. Malcolm, everything you say sounds like a line! Now, if you don't mind, some of us have work to do. I know that this food is not up to your high standards. I'm sure peanut butter apple cupcakes lack the sophistication to which you have grown accustomed, but I would prefer if you did not chase away any business I can get with your unwanted, pretentious reviews." She was even shocked at the harshness of her voice. Mr. Malcolm on the other hand looked a bit impressed.

"Actually, I was eyeing those mango ginger truffles. Could I buy a box or am I banned for life?" She was highly tempted to tell him the latter but decided against it. A little voice in her head told her that refusing a customer was probably bad for business, especially since she saw a couple people heading her way.

"How many?" she asked brusquely. The little voice in her head didn't tell her she needed to be _polite_.

"Four, I wouldn't wan to look greedy," he said, smiling at her widely. The look didn't suit him. She brushed her hands off on her apron and grabbed a pair of tongs that were resting behind the display case. She placed the truffles into a box and closed it swiftly.

"Galleon even," she stated, handing over the box. He handed her the money and set the flowers down on the counter as well. He walked toward the door and flipped open the box, placing a truffle into his mouth. She couldn't help but feel a bit anxious.

"Oh Merlin," he managed around his full mouth of chocolate. "I will certainly be coming back. A bientôt Ms. Weasley." She rolled her eyes again but watched him progress down the street none-the-less. What an onerous man he was . . .

A/N: I hoped you liked this chapter. Please REVIEW!!


	9. Free Agent Again

Disclaimer: Hello all! This is the last time I will say that everything belongs to JK Rowling except Eddy, Mirela and anyone else you don't recognize.

She had been there many times before, her father's childhood bedroom, the one he'd shared with her Uncle Bill for most of his young life. She knew that there was a whole punched in the wall that was hidden behind a chest of drawers, that there was a false back to the closet where the two as teenagers had hidden dirty magazines from Granny Weasley. Even so, as she looked around the room, it suddenly seemed very new.

She ran her hands reverently over the soft, white taffeta of her wedding dress. It was simple and sweet and altogether _her. _ Her grandmother had spent the better part of three months on it, making sure each seam was perfect. She looked down at her hands. They looked different as well, much cleaner than they were normally. She had gotten her nails done, the lines of flour and chocolate that usually outlined her finger nails was gone and they were painted a blush pink. She fingered her engagement ring, a large sapphire surrounded by tiny pearls set in platinum. It had once belonged to Eddy's great grandmother.

A knock sounded at the door and Mirela looked up. Her cousin Victoire slid in. "How are you doing?" she asked. The blond looked immaculate as usual. Her gold hair was done up in a french twist and she was wearing a close fitting green dress.

"Fine," Mirela whispered. Her stomach erupted in a flight of drunken butterflies. Why was she getting married?!

"You know," Victoire began, sitting down on the bed beside the younger Weasley. "On my wedding day, I nearly ran off right before the ceremony." Mirela looked up in surprise. She had always assumed that everything in Victoire's and Teddy's marriage was picture perfect. "I was so nervous I felt like I was going to explode!"  
"I just don't know if I've made the right decision."

"I've seen how happy Eddy's made you. You're much happier with him than you ever were with Henry and you've been with him for nearly three years. I think you know yourself well enough that you wouldn't have gotten yourself in this far if you didn't think you were right together. You're just getting cold feet. It's fairly normal," Victoire replied soothingly. Mirela nodded mutely. "Did I mention you look absolutely beautiful?" Mirela laughed, blushing.

"Thanks Vic," Mirela said softly. Aside from her grandmother, Victoire had always been the closest thing she had to a mother.

"I came up here to tell you that the rest of them will be descending upon you to help you finish getting ready." Mirela shuddered but smiled none-the-less, her worry fading away.

It took her exactly an hour to pry herself from her female relative's clutches. She found herself waiting in a small tent a few feet from where the ceremony was to be held. Her dress was on and her hair had been curled so it hung in perfect ringlets down her back. A crown of daisies sat on her head that matched her bouquet. She felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned. Her father stood in his nice black dress robes. Time had been good to him. While his hair was slightly thinning and was more gray than red, he still retained his roughish good looks. "Are you ready Rela Rue?" he asked softly. His eyes looked strangely bright. She nodded and took her father's arm. The two walked toward another, much larger tent. It had been the site of so many Weasley weddings. Eddy had tried to convince her to have a large, elegant wedding but she had refused. She wanted a nice, simple wedding at her favorite place in the world. She knew that if she gave Eddy an inch, their special day would turn into a massive political endeavor that her dear Uncle Percy and future father-in-law would exploit as much as possible.

Her two bridesmaids, Izzy and Eddy's sister Maggie were waiting. She had opted not to have a flower girl because there were simply too many to choose from. She took a deep breath and the music swelled. Izzy and Maggie went first, taking their first steps away from her, looking beautiful in their plumb dresses. She felt her father move before she did and gripped him more tightly, suddenly aware of what she was doing. The idea didn't scare her, not really, she wanted to marry Eddy but it was as if she hadn't understood the magnitude before that point. She felt everyone's eyes on her but she kept her eyes ahead, searching for Eddy's.

He looked handsome as usual and her heart skipped at the sight of him in his tailored robes. He had had his hair cut short. He was smiling at her, his lips stretched tight over his teeth. She could see he was close to tears. Carl, her friend and one of his groomsmen was barely containing his infectious laughter and Eddy's elder brother John was staring at Izzy flirtatiously. All too soon, she was standing in front of Eddy. She felt her father shift beside her. "Who presents this woman to be wed?" the officiate asked.

"I and her family do," Charlie answered. He kissed her on the cheek and turned to take his seat. She stepped up beside Eddy and briefly grasped his hand, her bouquet handed off to Izzy. She could feel the heat radiating off of Eddy as they exchanged their vows. As she answered, the words of a poem her father had once read her came to her mind.

_i carry your heart with me_

_(i carry it in my heart)_

_i am never without it_

_(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing, my darling)_

_i fear no fate_

_(for you are my fate, my sweet)_

_i want no world_

_(for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
i carry your heart

_(i carry it in my heart)_

They came to her in a voice she didn't recognize and she realized suddenly that it was her mother's. Her father had told her the story, about how he came across the book before they went on holiday. She hadn't given it another thought before that moment but now that it had come to her, she felt a lightness she had not felt before, as if she were being lifted by some unseen arms.

"Do you Mirela Abigail Weasley take Edward Ethan Malcolm for your husband in good times and bad, in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she murmured softly, looking into his eyes and seeing all of the love she had so longed to see in Henry's, everything she needed.

"And do you Edward Ethan Malcolm take Mirela Abigail Weasley as your wife in good times and bad, in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Then, with the power given to me by these two here and the Ministry of Magic, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss each other." They kissed and Mirela felt a familiar warmth spread up her spine.

Charlie felt tears come to his eyes as he watched his daughter wed Eddy. It had been a long time since she had lived with him, since she was expected to tell him where she was and who she was with. She was no longer a child but she still felt like _his _child. She seemed so adult as she gazed into his eyes, their hands grasped. She looked so much like Maureen it hurt. Over the years, the pain of her passing had lessened till he went days without thinking about her. Today though, as he watched the fruit of their love blend inexorably with another he couldn't help but think of her. What would she have said? What would she have thought? Would she have helped Mirela fix her hair? Would she have arranged the flowers? He had no idea.

Surrounded by all of these happy couples, he couldn't help but feel suddenly alone. It seemed that the time since Maureen's passing, since Mirela's birth, had been a relentless journey toward this day, when he would be once again severed, cut loose. The question would no longer be "When are Charlie and Mirela getting here?" It would change to the more heart breaking "Charlie, when are Mirela and Eddy getting here." She was becoming part of a family, another family, something wholeley seperate from himself.

Of course, today was merely a symbolic severing. The damage had been done long before. Somehow though, the symbolic shift hurt much more than the literal one had. He knew in his gut that Mirela would never again come to him in tears, heart broken once again. She would no longer seek refuge in her childhood home; she would have no need to. He was, yet again, for the first time in a long time, a free agent.

A/N: I don't know if something screwy happened with the last chapter but here's the last one! I'm already a couple pages into my next fic, a slightly less cheerful one about Lucy Weasley. Please REVIEW!!


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